


Crime Doesn't Sleep

by violet_daydreams



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_daydreams/pseuds/violet_daydreams
Summary: The public eye won't ever accept Goro again, he’s ruined himself, he’s been doomed to this fate since he was only fourteen years old.C’est la vie, he doesn’t need those people anyway.He’s fine.He’s always been fine.It’s not like the public has ever truly liked him anyways.---Goro has his doubts when it comes to himself, doubts and regrets that will never wash away. Akira isn't sure how to address him, how to break through his walls.





	Crime Doesn't Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Quick notes about this! It's slightly au-ish, where Goro was unable to shut the partition wall and the Phantom Thieves were able to get him out alive. Goro's reputation subsequently fell, though he's still a detective.

Early morning light peers through the blinds, casting shadows over the bed’s occupants. It's no earlier than seven, so, it's not surprising that Goro is the only one awake. Between balancing school and work, sleep is irrelevant.

He has things to do. Places to be. Or, at least, he normally would. But he's taken off on account of having an abundance of vacation days and school being on break at the request of another.

But still, he's antsy. He wants to move. Get out. Feel free. He's a caged bird forced to sing even on the best of days. Except, now the cage is open, he's free to leave but can't. Forced to sing for an owner that didn’t want him. Who never did and never could, who was happy to dispose of him in a heartbeat. And even with gentle coaxing, with trust, he struggles to work his way out of his cage under the thumb of another more caring person.

The Detective Prince had been dethroned and disgraced with Shido’s downfall. With the public aware of Shido having a paternal connection to him, that he was used by him, Goro’s work came into question.

Even without direct exposure to his crimes, people were quick to throw him under the bus. To question his character, morality, and reliability. And while the accusations were true, they were without evidence. The Thieves wouldn’t testify against him and Sae wouldn’t take him to court. But, to the public, the possibility lingers and the trust and adoration people had placed him dissipates completely. It seems his no good father couldn’t even let him just _live_. Even free from Shido, free from constant blackmail, he’s struggling. He's still a detective, somehow, if that even matters.

But he's a fraud.

A sham.

Ousted from the rest.

The NPA keeps an eye on him, on account of his few real accomplishments, the ones that aren’t under question, the achievements outside of the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns. But rumors and lies come with each new strive forward he makes. He’s under constant scrutiny, rumors accusing him of crimes he didn’t commit, mocking him and his abilities. He’s nothing but a joke now. The public eye won't ever accept him again, he’s ruined himself, he’s been doomed to this fate since he was only fourteen years old.  

C’est la vie, he doesn’t need those people anyway.

He’s _fine_.

He’s always been fine.

It’s not like the public has ever truly liked him anyways.

They like nothing more than a persona, a mask. Smiles and kindness that could never exist in a heart as hollow and shriveled up as his. Fans did nothing to fill the lonely aching void in his chest either, the desire for love and affection. Despite all the fan mail, all the gifts, all the aspiring young detectives, none of it mattered. None of them would love the real Goro Akechi. Because the real Goro Akechi isn’t perfect and never will be, he saw how quick his fans turned when he fumbled. When his whole life is missteps and misfortune, he doubts there’s any light left to cling to. Any redeeming qualities in his imperfections.

Perfect doesn’t exist and even if it did, he’s the furthest thing from it.

Perfect is a mask that just hasn’t cracked yet, hiding all the ugly bits no one's meant to see. That no one wants to see. Well… maybe there’s someone. Someone who’s drawn to that darkness in him as much as he's drawn into their light. Someone willing to see the ugliness and still stick around.

Someone willing to try to love a monster as ugly as him.  

Goro sits up slowly with a quiet groan, sheets sliding down his bare chest. It always feels cramped squeezing together on Akira’s bed at LeBlanc. Is this truly the life he's chosen? Sneaking around with a handsome boy, praying not to be a burden to him too? He runs his fingers gently through Akira’s hair, smiling bittersweetly. Perhaps he should take the money he has and leave. Start a new life in America or Canada or England or France, just anywhere but here. Akira will move on.

He doesn't need Goro, he never will.

Not really.

No one ever needs him.

His bare feet touch smooth wood as he carefully rises to his feet, collecting his clothes from the floor. Ah, they’re all wrinkled. Maybe he’ll have to take the time to fold them nicely in the future, if he can learn to think through the lust.

No...

He’s leaving, there is no future for them. There’s no ‘next time’. There never could be. He just does his best to throw on his clothes quickly and quietly before he’s noticed. He's fastening his belt when he hears Morgana from behind him, “Where do you think you're going?”

Goro had almost forgotten about the cat, he'd disappeared when things had started to get hot and heavy last night. Maybe Morgana slept downstairs in the cafe… He almost feels bad for driving him from the room before and for waking him up now. His footsteps must have been pretty heavy, fuck.

He really doesn’t want to talk right now.

“I have things to do, think no more of it than that,” He dismisses, searching the floor for his gloves. Even when fully clothed, he feels naked without them. A pathetic attachment, surely. But that's what he is.

Pathetic.

A leech.

A puppet.

A tool to be used and tossed away.

Ah, there they are, laying near each other where they were haphazardly thrown to the floor by Akira, the only person who could truly strip him bare. He picks his gloves off the ground with care and tugs them on, feeling just a bit more like himself.

That's that then.

Goro’s put together, he can leave. He reaches in his pocket, fingers wrapping around his phone. Should he call in for work? Yes. That might be for the best. He can work out a transfer faster if he goes in person. Disgraced or not, Goro still holds some sway within the legal system. It's still as corrupt as ever and he's still in with powerful names where he’s standing, changes were starting to sweep through Japan but not quite fast enough. His own mistakes won’t hurt him if he pushes enough, reminds politicians and higher-ups he’s still useful.  

Morgana, however, isn't done with him yet, “You don't have to leave… Akira would want you to stay.” Goro, of course, knows Morgana is right. Akira wants him here.

Akira would love to wake up to the sight of Goro lying next to him smiling, being there, just coexisting with him. He would love any sign of domesticity that Goro would dare to give. Chances are Akira expects what’s coming in the near future. That he knows of Goro’s plan to leave, to let Akira find someone worthy at long last. Because Akira deserves happiness and Goro knows that cannot be found with him. Akira has always been exceptionally skilled at seeing right through him, through all the bullshit. “That’s precisely why I have to leave.”

Morgana doesn’t seem to want to leave it on that note, annoyingly persistent as always, “We both know that isn’t true.”

Goro doesn’t have a response to that, tugging at his left glove and shifting on his feet. Why is he even lingering? Talking to a _cat_ about his relationship? Is it a sign of his wavering will to go through with this? He doesn’t have the time to deal with sudden self-doubt. He straightens himself out, walking with careful calculated steps to the head of the stairs. A gloved hand rests on the banister of the railing and he glances over his shoulder, unable to take the first step down.

Akira.

Does he deserve this? Being left without so much as a note? Goro’s stomach sinks and he runs his other hand down his face with a frustrated sigh.

No, he really doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves to have a lover flee the country without a word.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

His grip tightens on the banister and he shuts his eyes, collecting himself. He’s not letting Morgana get to him, not after he’s worked up the nerve to finally do what’s best for himself and Akira. Just because something isn’t the best thing to do doesn’t mean it’s the wrong thing to do. This is for them both. Leaving like this with so many things unsaid. Because if they’re said, he’ll lose his courage.

“You’re being cowardly,” Morgana notes as he jumps up on the table, words only adding to the weight on Goro’s shoulders.

He sighs, the tension in his shoulders enough to ache, “I know.”

“Then, you should stay.” Somehow, Morgana makes it sound so easy. Like it could _ever_ be that simple. Akira deserves better than him. He always has and always will. Goro will never be enough, he knows that.

And yet….

“I know.” He should stay. He’s selfish, trying to leave like this even if  he holds both of their best interests at heart. But he _needs_ to do this. They’d all be better off without him in their lives.

“Then _stay_ ,” Morgana sounds almost pleading and Goro’s resolve shatters just a little, he knows breaking Akira’s heart will be heavy on everyone they know. Because they think Goro cares. For them, for Akira, for justice, for change. And he does. He _does_. But he wants to do what’s best, remove himself from them all because he cares so _damn_ much.

Goro makes a noise, almost a growl, out of frustration, “I _can’t_.”

“What’s stopping you?” Morgana’s voice is soft, sympathetic and it makes Goro crack even further.

His shoulders slump and he toys with his bangs in thought for a moment or two. “If he wakes up, I won’t be able to do what’s best for him,” His voice is low, wavering, “If I just leave, I can send him a message to explain and end things cleanly... I’ll lose the strength to do that much if I stay here.” Saying it out loud seems to harden his resolve, at long last, he steps down.

“.... Goro…?” The soft groggy voice is enough to riddle Goro’s entire body with tension again. Should he run? Perhaps that’s the best option. The safest option for them both. “Where are you going…?”

“Only off to work, darling, think nothing of it,” He looks over his shoulder, flashing Akira his most dashing smile.

Akira furrows his brows, sitting up, “Didn’t you take off today?” Ah. Perceptive as always.

Thankfully, lying is second nature to him. “Crime doesn’t sleep, I'm needed.”

“You’re lying,” Akira dismisses quickly, lifting the blanket up to beckon him into his arms, “Come back to bed.”

Goro’s eyes narrow, “To waste more time with attic trash?”

“Akechi,” Akira says firmly, staring him down. This isn’t like Goro at all, they both know it. As much wrath and hatred that Goro may have felt for him when he was envious, things have changed. Goro's loved, he has friends, he’s finally getting some semblance of just being a kid at long last.

Goro goes completely rigid, swallowing hard, Akira never calls him by his family name anymore. The idea of upsetting him is more painful than the idea of running away. Defeated, Goro wraps his arms around himself. “I’m sorry.”

Akira lays back down, patting the bed, “Make it up to me.”

“I will, I will…” Goro sighs, loosening his tie and working the buttons of his shirt open. If Akira has plans of staying in bed all day, formal attire like this wouldn’t do. He folds his shirt and sets it on the desk, doing the same with his pants before crawling back to Akira in only his boxers, a tank top, and his gloves.

He sighs as arms wrap around his waist and he melts into Akira’s touch, fighting back tears. This isn’t where he belongs.

He doesn’t deserve this.

Deserve _happiness_.

He won’t reject it.

Not yet.

Not today.

Goro is just thankful that Akira doesn’t mention the tears soaking through his shirt. Or the sniffles or sobs. He just rubs his back and kisses his forehead and the world feels right for a little while. And that makes him feel guilty.

He’s an assassin, a murderer, he doesn’t deserve to feel good. Even if Haru and Futaba are his friends now, it haunts him to see them. In them he sees his mistakes, the chaos he’s brought. How his work directly harmed people. Wakaba Isshiki was an innocent woman, a brilliant and loving scientist. Kunikazu Okumura was a disgusting immoral man, but a father with a daughter who loved him unconditionally. And to think, he could have been changing hearts all along... He could have spared people. Become a decent person on his own.

“You were played from the start,” Akira mumbles, still groggy without coffee. Living at LeBlanc has made him addicted and mornings are slow until he gets it. However, sleepy or not, it isn’t hard to tell what plagues Goro. It’s the only thing that does these days, since those weeks ago in the Velvet Room when he learned the truth of his selection as a wild card.

Goro grits his teeth, “That doesn’t take _anything_ back. That doesn’t make it _okay_. It will _never_ be okay.”

This is the first time they’ve really spoken about it, the first time Akira has dared to actually approach the subject. The albatross hanging around Goro’s neck, a burden that no one has asked him to bear. He can never be forgiven (he doesn’t want forgiveness) for his actions, but his show of remorse has been enough to bring Haru and Futaba closer to him.

He’s a victim too, looking beneath the surface. Looking past his actions alone. Looking into his past, his constructed self, his desires. Adults hurt him too. They hurt and twisted and corrupted him. And he’s trying to repent for what he became and the death and destruction he brought forth, even if he isn’t quite sure how.

Disappearing seems easier.

Surely Haru and Futaba feel haunted by the sight of him as much as he is by them.

He will always be their parents’ murderer.

Always.

“You’re being hard on yourself, Goro…” Akira isn’t truly sure what he can do or say for Goro. All he can do is try his hand and see if something sticks.

Maybe he should have let Goro approach him on this subject… No, that never would have happened. Goro would happily bottle up his feelings for an eternity if Akira let him. “You couldn’t have stopped if you wanted to, you were blackmailed… He would have killed you.”

He’s met with silence and he’s fine with the conversation ending. Goro is rough around the edges, especially during difficult conversations, but hopefully his reassurance has done something.

And it has, there’s nothing Goro can bring up in response. So, Goro does the only thing he can, he branches down a new path. He finds another elephant in the room ready to finally be addressed. “How does it feel, sleeping with the boy who attempted to murder you with a bullet to the head, hm?” Despite his hostile tone, Goro looks as composed as ever, sweetly smiling as he pulls away from Akira’s warm embrace, “Do you think about that when you fuck me, I wonder?” _Make him hate you_ , Akechi thinks, _remind him what you’ve done. Who you truly are._

“Goro…” Akira can do nothing more than trail off, sitting up himself. It’s times like this when he doesn’t understand Goro at all, all the masks make sense. He can read the truth in his eyes, beneath false smiles and saccharine tones. But he doesn’t understand the Akechi with blank distant eyes and misplaced bitterness. He tries desperately to grasp for an understanding, an explanation, but it never comes.

“ _Well_? Do you?” Goro grabs the comforter, hand clenched tightly.

 _He’s pissed_ , Akira notes, relieved to find _something_ he latch on to. “Sometimes,” He admits, knowing that honesty was the only possible solution here. He can never forget that only months ago Goro was willing to kill him.

They’d spoken about this a few times after their confrontation in Shido’s palace, the rare details of his work as an assassin. That he’d wanted to quit when Akira became his main target with the Thieves to follow, Shido unwilling to let him spare even Morgana. He’d tried to push off the dates, tried to get Shido to leave it well enough alone, but Goro couldn’t defy him. Death didn’t suit him well. The Thieves would have died with or without him following through, it seemed better to just eliminate them himself.

“That’s what I thought.” Goro’s knuckles are white from his tight grasp and he trembles. If Akira wasn’t so intimately familiar with him, he wouldn’t have noticed the subtle shake to his gloved hands, the tension in his jaw, the trembling of his lip. “You can’t forget who I am. What I am capable of. It’s a burden I’ll never be free of. You know this, don’t you? There will always be a part of me that will remain the boy who tried to shoot you. Who would have happily watched you die in the name of revenge.”

“I took a bullet for you.” Shot in the stomach, left in critical condition for two weeks and pushing them to the very brink of their deadline to steal Shido’s heart.

Goro huffs, “You’re an imbecile.” He’s still beating himself up for that. He doesn’t think there’ll be a time where he doesn’t regret letting Akira take his place in that moment. He should have died then, he’s such a waste of space.

“I just see the good in you.”

The laughter that rings through the room makes Akira’s heart sink, it’s exactly the same as when they fought on the ship. Bitter and empty and heartless, perfectly fitting for his own self perception. “Good? In _me_? You’re shitting me, aren’t you?”

“It exists.” This is the most serious Akira has been with him in some time. No deflections, no attempt to lighten the mood or distract him with affection. “Why don’t you ever let me show you?”

Goro’s hand slowly uncurls from the blanket, he makes a small strained noise. It hurts from the tightness of his grip, sure, but he’s not sure what he wants to do. He wants to hurt something, someone. Needs to get the frustration out, he’s hiding sorrow beneath rage, something he’s learned to do well. “There’s no need.”

“Because you _know_ I’m right,” Akira watches his hands, not hiding his worry. Goro takes notice and it’s not hard to notice that it only pisses him off _more_.

“I don’t,” It’s a strain to keep his voice down, Goro doesn’t want to yell yet, “You’re an _idiot_.”

With a small smirk, Akira remarks, “That’s ad hominem.” He remembers that Goro likes that kind of pointless thing. Logical fallacies and philosophy are some of his peak interests, he hopes to study them more in the future and Akira thinks it suits him.

Goro hisses quietly, “Smart ass.”

“You don’t mean it,” Akira says softly, trying to recover some ground.

“Do you want to fucking _bet_?” It’s almost a growl and something so animalistic just doesn’t fit Goro.

Akira runs a hand through his hair, growing exasperated as Goro continues to push himself farther and farther away. He’s constructing walls faster than Akira can ever hope to burst through them if they continue at this rate. “Why can’t you ever let me in?”

“Why do you feel so fucking entitled to _know_ about me.” It’s a dumb question, but he’s too far gone to care. He just wants to leave, but he knows if he tries to stand there’ll be a vice grip on his wrist.

Akira furrows his brows, “We’re dating.”

Goro laughs incredulously, “Are we now?” They had certainly never made it official, it felt more like slinking around and hiding than dating. Which was on Goro, certainly. Going outside was like putting a target on his own back.

Akira flinches, but keeps his composure, he’s certain Akechi will take it back later. “I’d hope so, considering how often you’re here.”

“Ha!” his laughter forced, “I think you should stop making so many assumptions.”

“You’re always so... difficult.” Akira sighs, his determination wavering a bit. He doesn’t want to push too far, doesn’t want to lose Goro forever.

“Then why don’t you just… let me leave? _Why_?” Goro is completely rigid again and Akira wants nothing more than to reach out and touch him, but he feels like he’s galaxies away. If he tries to touch him, the conversation will end and he’ll leave.

Akira doesn’t blame Akechi for his past actions, he can’t find it in him to. And even if he could, he would never hold it against him. He couldn’t. “Love makes you do crazy things.”

Goro lets out an ugly choked sob, fighting the tears threatening to spill over again, “Stop.”

“Stop what?” Akira prods gently, a hand on his shoulder. Baby steps. Goro will let him back in now that he’s got him vulnerable again.

“ _Lying_ ,” Goro says in a hushed whimper, “You can’t love me.”

There, he’s got him right where he needs him. “Why can’t I?”

“No one has _ever_ loved me.” In all eighteen years of his life, he struggles to remember a kind embrace, a genuine smile, before Akira stormed his way through all of his defenses. “That doesn’t change.”

“It _does_ change,” Akira insists, “I love you.” This isn’t the first time he’s said it, but it’s the first time it’s provoked such strong emotion from Goro.

“You _can’t_.” He can’t fight it anymore, tears starting to stream down his cheeks like a bursting dam as silent sobs wracked his body.

“I can and I do.” Akira runs his fingers over love bites left on Akechi’s shoulders, smiling softly, “There’s a reason I keep you around, y’know.”

“Everyone just uses me,” He says through a choked sob, holding himself tightly as he hunches forward, “You’ll be no different.”

“I don’t want to use you,” Akira’s voice is a soft whisper in his ear as arms cocoon around Goro, pulling him against his chest. "What could I possibly gain?”

“Sex, obviously.” Goro tries pathetically to shove Akira away, sniffling and rubbing furiously at one of his eyes.

Akira forces Akechi’s chin up, forces him to _really_ look at him. “Do I really seem like that kind of person to you?”

Goro takes a few deep shuddering breaths in a desperate attempt to collect himself, “... No.”

“I love you, Goro. I do.” The words hold an enormous amount of weight and Goro almost breaks down again, so soon after his attempt to steady himself.

“I…” He wants to say it back. He does. But like almost every other time, the words catch in the back of his throat and he chokes on them.

“You don’t have to say anything back.” It’s rare to get those three simple words out of Goro, it’s even rarer to get them genuinely, outside of tormenting and teasing each other relentlessly. As much as Akira wants to hear them, he doesn’t want to force them. It needs to be genuine. He won’t accept them any other way.

“I don’t understand you, you just…” Goro swallows hard, sniffling, “don’t make any sense.”

Akira laughs softly, “You don’t have to understand.”

“Ugh, no, wrong, I do,” Goro whines softly, clutching Akira’s shirt.

“Not everything is a mystery you have to solve, Detective,” He replies with another soft laugh and Goro can’t help but melt against him just a bit. Akira is safety. Akira is home.

“‘S’not fair,” Goro mutters, moving to press his face into the crook of Akira’s neck, not so subtly wiping his tears on his skin and shirt.

“Kechi, c’mon,” Akira whines softly, pulling him into his lap, “Not cool.” Goro only huffs. “It’s totally fair, by the way. You’re an enigma, y’know.” Sometimes when he thinks he might understand Goro, everything gets turned on its head.

Goro snorts, “God, than what does that make you?”

“Your worst nightmare. A puzzle you’ll never be able to solve,” He grins, pressing a kiss to Goro’s forehead.

Goro snorts, once again drying his eyes on Akira’s shirt, “You’re so dumb.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Akira moves Goro from his lap, ruffling his already messy hair, “I wanna eat. How do you feel about pancakes?”

For a moment, Goro’s face goes blank before he shakes his head with a smile, “God damn you, Kurusu.”

“You know you love me,” He teases, kissing his forehead, “But seriously, I want pancakes.”

“I do,” Goro’s voice is no higher than a whisper.

“Hm?” Akira leans in closer, eyeing him curiously, “What was that.”

Goro flushes slightly, clearing his throat, “I…” He stares down at the bedding, brows furrowed tightly as he tries to force out the words, “I really do love you.”

Akira pulls him into a kiss, unable to contain his crooked smile. “Knew it.”

With a scoff, he pushes Akira away, “Go make us breakfast, you loser.”

Akira beams, hopping out of bed and quickly changing his tear soaked shirt. There’s some time before LeBlanc opens for the day and there’s no way he isn’t taking advantage of that to bring Goro breakfast in bed. He’s more than earned a day of pampering, maybe even a shopping trip if he’s up to it later in the day.

A rough start doesn’t have to mean a rough day.


End file.
